


Handtale

by Miss_Mischief



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Frisk’s Journey through the Underground, Gaster as the Skelebros Father, Goopy W. D. Gaster, M/M, Magic User Frisk, Older Frisk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, like really it’s ridiculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-29 16:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mischief/pseuds/Miss_Mischief
Summary: Frisk is thrown into the Underground to die, and makes an unlikely ally. Things get more flabbergasting from there.-While inspired by Handplates, this fic does take place in a separate universe. However, you may notice some Handplate themes in this story, as their version of Gaster matches closely with my own. So do with that as you will, I suppose.Fair warning, all the pairings in this story will be ridiculously slow-burn, and won’t even appear until later chapters. And will contain copious amounts of Gaster making fun of his unsuspecting sons. This is a journey-fic after all. :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy starting another chapter fic I'll likely struggle to update. I've promised myself to post at least one chapter a day, so we'll see how this goes.

Ngh.

Without opening her eyes, Frisk could tell that she was lucky she’d survived the fall. Her entire body throbbed with pain so intense she couldn’t be sure where it hurt the most. Her lungs ached in her chest, but she couldn’t find the strength to lift her hands to feel for broken ribs. Her fingertips twitched, and she was silently thankful she was still capable of that movement - it meant the tendons in her hands hadn’t severed. That would have made performing magic much harder, and that much more painful. Splaying her hands flat against the ground, Frisk slowly opened her eyes.

As much as they would, anyway. Her left eye was swollen shut. Frisk groaned quietly as she slowly pushed herself into sitting up, trembling hands rising to skim over her body, pressing in various places as she checked for strains or broken bones. A few torn muscles, she mused, and one fractured rib. Looking up at the length she had fallen, and the beating she had taken beforehand, she figured she should count herself as lucky it wasn't simply fatal. Or, worse, leave her weak enough that she was simply unable to do anything but wait for her slow and inevitable death.

Woah, okay, enough going down that road.

Switching her gaze away from the entrance above her, Frisk finally took notice of her surroundings. She seemed to have landed in a bed of.. Buttercups? Frisk frowned softly, her fingertips lightly brushing against one of the unusually large flowers. Each bud was about the size of her palm, much larger than any buttercup she’d seen on the surface. And, now that she was looking for it, Frisk realized she could feel wisps of magic radiating from the golden petals.

Well, she thought, frowning, it would have to do. She’d channeled nature magic before, gently encouraging the magic out of the world around her and into herself. Or, into another vessel, another plant she’d needed to grow faster, or some animal that had come to her after eating something poisonous. It had worked then, but then the world around her hadn’t radiated with such power. The flowers around her seemed full of magic - it was dripping out of their pores. Like a cup full of water that had more water constantly being poured into it.

Reaching out her magic towards the plants, the flowers seemed to all shift towards her, eagerly offering up the power held within them. Gently pulling from them, Frisk was startled to find the magic unfamiliar to her. It wasn’t that it felt bad, just… unfamiliar. It didn’t feel like nature magic at all, but.. She frowned. She had to keep her focus on the task at hand.

Shifting the magic, Frisk began to channel it through her, closing her eyes in relief as the pain seemed to trickle away. She started with her ribs, carefully healing the fracture, before her magic trailed in both directions, blooming outwards of her chest and traveling down her legs and cross her arms, up her neck and through her head, healing the swollen eye and pounding ache behind both.

And still, the flower began to pour magic into her. As if what she had just expended had been nothing.

“If only I’d had you on the surface,” Frisk mused, smiling slightly, imagining all that could have been done with the help of just one of these little guys. Normally, it would take an entire bouquet of normal flowers just to heal a scraped knee; and even then, she would have to be careful not to take so much that it would kill the fragile creature. Dropping her hands back into her lap, she opened her eyes, then screamed.  
Right in front of her, a creature startled, falling backwards from where he was sitting peacefully in the buttercups. He scrambled away, his hands and heels pressing into the ground - and she could only use those terms loosely, because she wasn’t sure he had limbs. His face was bone white, and in place of eyes, he had two gaping holes in his head. Each with a dark crack that split his head, one trailing up and towards the back of his skull, the other down and meeting his mouth - another gaping hole, she realized with fear, and stopping inside it.

The two stared at each other, neither making another sound and Frisk realized with a start she had yet to draw breath. Quickly inhaling, she kept her gaze on the monster ahead of her, watching with silent fear-fascination as a light slowly flickered on in one of his eyes. It focused on her, like a pupil, although his other eye socket remained black.

Eye socket.

With a start, Frisk realized that the man didn’t have a face at all; rather, some sort of skull instead. Although, it wasn’t a human one, it was similar enough. Chancing a glance down, she confirmed her suspicions upon seeing the skeletal phalanges that peeked out from under black sleeves. She noticed the gaping holes in his hands, but she didn’t have time to think on it before they were being lifted. Her gaze darted back to his face, swallowing dryly as she watched the monster slowly come to his wits.

He seemed to hesitate, then, staring at her. Slowly, his hands began to move. Simultaneously, he spoke.

_“You can see me?”_

His words were garbled, not quite a voice, but not quite not one, either. Hesitantly, she gave a small nod, and his skull split out into a terrifying grin. He didn’t have any teeth.

His body moved, and Frisk had only a moment to realize that body was quite a loose term, and slimey, black mass might be more accurate before he was reaching towards her. Letting out a shriek, Frisk scrambled back, watching his expression falter and his hand slowly lower to his side. He stared at her for a moment before lifting his head, staring up at where she had fallen from before looking back at her. His expression was pensive, but not.. Cold, Frisk realized, carefully watching his face.

She wasn’t adept in reading skull expressions, but she’d spent her entire life reading people’s thoughts from their faces, and she was relieved that despite lacking skin and muscle - his face still somewhat betrayed his emotions. His one eye was eyeing her, a soft frown on his… not lips, jaw? She was giving herself another headache.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ he finally spoke, his voice dripping with regret as he slowly settled back down into the buttercups. None of his slime remained on the buttercups when he shifted. _“I didn't mean to frighten you. This must all be so frightening. And my countenance isn’t one of a friendly monster. But, please. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wingdings Gaster. I will not hurt you.”_ Wingdings promised, his hands lifting at the end of his sentence in a placating way.

“W-wingdings,” Frisk stuttered, and she silently cursed herself for it. He nodded slightly, as if confirming that was his name, and Frisk slowly relaxed. He didn’t seem mean. “My name is Frisk. I don’t… have a last name, so don’t think me rude for not giving one.” Frisk gave a small, apologetic smile before startling, frowning slightly at herself. She had nothing to apologize for! It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t ever claimed.

 _“That was quite the fall you just took. You are lucky you survived,”_ he commented, and Frisk nodded slightly in agreement. He seemed genuinely concerned, so she offered a smaller smile than the one previous.

“I.. didn’t fall, but, I’m lucky to know healing magic. If I didn’t.. I’d be in a lot more pain.” Frisk agreed, and Wingdings seemed to consider her words before offering a smile.

_“A… skele **ton** of pain?”_

Frisk blinked, then blinked again. Did he just.. Oh god, he did. Before she could stop herself, she began to giggle, then to laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. All at once, she could feel the stress of the last few hours hit her like a raging bull, but still, all she could do was laugh, even as tears welled up in her eyes.

 _“You’re not laughing for my sake, are you?”_ Gaster asked, smiling now, and Frisk shook her head as she continued to laugh and cry.

She had been beaten and thrown into the Underground to be slaughtered by the first creature to come across her, and yet, she had frightened him enough to cause him to collapse and now the skeleton.. thing.. was making puns for her benefit. Oh, the humans would have hated that.

“No, that… that caught me off guard, is all,” Frisk explained with a broad smile, lifting her hands to wipe her tears away. Dropping her hands back into her lap, she gave Wingdings a helpless smile, “I really needed that laugh. Thank you, Wingdings.”

_“I understand. You’re welcome, Frisk.”_

“So, um,” Frisk began once she was over her giggling fit, looking back at the monster in front of her, “can.. You help me? I mean, I don’t- I don’t think I want to go back Aboveground, but..,” her voice trailed off, glancing at the frame of a door behind him. He followed her gaze, turning his head, and regarded the pillars for a thoughtful moment before looking back at her.

 _“I can accompany you, Frisk. And explain how things work down here, in the Underground, but I cannot help you past being a guide. I cannot protect you, nor can I save you. If you wish for my help, that is something you must understand,”_ he said evenly, though not with malice, simply with patience. He took a deep breath, releasing it with an exhale, before lifting his hand as if in demonstration. Lowering it, he swiped at a flower, and Frisk’s eyes went wide when he didn’t touch it, but rather seemed to go straight through it.

“Are you a ghost?” Frisk blurted, startled, and Wingdings seemed amused at the query.

 _“No, I am still very much a Skeleton Monster. However, I… am not completely here. What you see, this form of mine, is.. Incomplete. Pieces of my SOUL have been scattered across Time and Space - lost to me forever. I cannot interact with this world, or its inhabitants. That’s why I was so surprised to realize that you could see, let alone hear, me.”_ Wingdings explained, his smile fading with his words. He paused for a moment when his hands began to shake, frowning at them and flexing the phalanges before continuing with his signs and speech, _“you are the first in many years, monster or human, to have seen me.”_

What a lonely life, Frisk thought, frowning softly. She couldn’t be sure what his story was, or even if he was telling the truth, but for now, she had no reason to not believe him. He was just as alone as she was, despite what sounded like plenty of monsters living around him; he was just as isolated as she was.

Rising to her feet, she offered him a small smile. “Then your company will be enough, Wingdings. Lets.. get out of these flowers.”

Wingdings slowly rose, then continued to rise, and rise, until Frisk had to crane her head back just to stare at him. He was at least seven feet tall, she thought belatedly. And, upon closer inspection of his body, she realized while he appeared.. Goopy.. It seemed to actually be an ethereal material, like smoke. How odd.

Giving the monster one last smile, she turned and began to walk toward the arches. Wingdings didn’t make a sound as he moved, and Frisk glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to make sure he was even moving with her. He didn’t look like he had legs, so maybe he was.. Floating? Alright, that sounded dumb even in her head, but it was fine. He was with her. That’s what mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

“Howdy! I’m Flowey!”

 

The flower was speaking to her.

 

“Flowey the Flower!” The buttercup introduced itself with a wide smile, bouncing a bit as it regarded her with warmth. He seemed friendly enough, Frisk supposed, offering her own smile in reply. She didn’t have enough time to actually say anything before the flower was speaking again. 

 

“Hmm, you’re new to the Underground, aren’t you?” It asked, then giggled, “golly, you must be so confused.”

 

Frisk glanced to the side, watching as Wingdings moved to the other side of the flower. He was now standing behind it, and Frisk wanted to question him on it, but before she could open her mouth, the flower was talking again. It seemed to be a habit for the annoying little creature.

 

“Someone ought to teach you how things work around here,” it began, and Frisk glanced slightly upwards when she saw Gaster’s hands begin to move.

 

_ “Don’t let the bullets touch you.” _

 

Bullets? What?

 

“I guess little old me will have to do,” Flowey sighed, smiling, before looking up at Frisk once more. “Ready?”

 

Frisk gasped as she felt a pull, centered in her chest and slowly spreading outwards. Then it was over, and Frisk struggled to regain her breath as she glanced down at what had caused the strange feeling. There was a red heart floating just outside her chest, connected to her by a near invisible pink string.

 

“See that heart? That is your SOUL, the very culmination of your being!” Flowey stated with delight, eyeing her SOUL for a moment before looking back up at her face. “Your SOUL starts off weak, but can gain strength if you gain a lot of LV.”

 

She glanced up at Wingdings for explanation, but he seemed fascinated with the flower, though it was displeasure that covered his features. He didn’t trust the small creature, and if she wasn’t already on edge, she certainly was now. 

 

At her clearly lost look, Flowey giggled.

 

“What’s LV stand for? Why, LOVE, of course,” Flowey explained, “you want some LOVE, don’t you?”

 

_ “No, you don’t.” _

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll share some with you!” Flowey declared joyfully. White dots began to appear around the flower, Frisk watching with distrust as the flower continued to speak, “Down here, LOVE is shared though.. Little white.. Friendliness pellets.”

 

Even without Wingding’s scowl, she didn’t think she would have fallen for that pathetic display.

 

When Flowey sent them sprawling towards her, with an order to ‘get as many as she could’ she knew better - side stepping and watching them fly and disappear somewhere behind her. The Flower gave her a frustrated look, eyes narrowing into something more sinister.

 

_ “Now, it is your turn. You can FIGHT, ACT, or MERCY.” _ Wingdings explained, words appearing magically before her. Frisky blinked in surprise at the options, and the Flower tsk’d.

 

“You know what’s going on here, don’t you,” the Flower accused, fangs starting to appear in its tiny mouth as the small thing seemed to tremble with rage. Frisk ignored it for now, trying to focus on the signs that Wingdings presented her. It was easier to understand him this way, she thought, when not distracted by the not-quite-right voice of his. Her sign-language was iffy at best, but she thought she knew enough to get the general gist of his explanation.

 

Looking down at the buttons in front of her, Frisk frowned, her hand hesitating between the buttons.

 

_ “You shouldn’t MERCY,” _ Wingdings supplied, speaking now that her eyes weren’t on him,  _ “this creature will not give you the same benefit.” _

 

But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? She hadn’t met a soul willing to spare her, for what she was. For what she was capable of. Mind made, Frisk’s hand pressed down on the ‘MERCY’ button, and two options appeared before her. ‘Spare’, and ‘Run’.

 

Flowey made another sound of discontent, obviously thinking she was going to spare and allot him another turn. As soon as her fingers touched ‘run’, Frisk was off like a rocket, leaping over the small flower and ignoring its angered screech as she bolted up and away from the plant. Only when the sounds faded did she slow down, her face broad with a smile. Turning her head, she was glad to see Wingdings had kept up with her, didn’t even seem tired in comparison to her heaving breaths. If anything, he seemed.. amused.

 

_ “Flowey was not expecting that. I confess, I was expecting you to ‘spare’ as well,” _ he stated plainly, with no small amount of curiosity in his tone. Frisk shrugged, a bit breathless as she smiled.

 

“It’s like you said, isn’t it? He wouldn’t have given me he same chance - I didn’t think I knew enough to convince him not to kill me.”

 

Wingdings hummed softly, considering, before nodding and acknowledging her point. “What was all that?” Frisk questioned while she held his attention, glancing down at her chest and relaxing to see her SOUL safely hidden inside her body.

 

_ “The words?” _ Wingdings questioned, and at her nod, he continued,  _ “FIGHT, ACT, and MERCY, are your only options in the fights to come. You’ll also get another, ITEM, soon - but only once you’ve actually obtained items to use in battle. Flowey was right when they spoke of LV, though they only told you a partial truth: LoVe stands for Level of Violence. You gain more by collecting EXP, Execution Points. You haven’t killed anything in your lifetime, have you?” _

 

Frisk shook her head, stunned, and Wingdings hummed.

 

_ “I thought not. Your Level Of Violence is at 1; the lowest level, and you have zero exp.” _

 

“What about the other thing? The.. HP?” Frisk asked, remembering the yellow bar that had floated right beneath her SOUL.

 

_ “Ah. That is your HP, or, your HOPE,” _ Wingdings fixed her with a curious look.  _ “HOPE measures how much damage you can take in a battle before you die. You can gain HOPE by increasing your LV, or…,” _

 

“By having hope?” Frisk finished carefully, and the Monster nodded.

 

_ “Yes. Your HOPE level stands at… twenty. It’s… low. For a human.” _ Wingdings observed, but he seemed content to leave it at that, and Frisk was thankful. She appreciated his presence, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to bear her SOUL, figuratively, to him.

 

“Can.. all monsters do that?” Frisk asked, resting her hand over her chest as they continued to walk.

  
_ “They will all be capable of extracting your soul for an encounter, but very few monsters will be able to read your stats as I can,” _ Gaster reassured, although why that was so reassuring to her, she couldn’t be sure.


End file.
